The procession will be led by Mr. T, tearfully clutching a photo of his beloved red-striped 1983 GMC with gun rack and 350 cubic inch V-8 engine. The stone monument will be covered in avocado shag carpet, with a built-in mini-fridge and side rear bubble windows. And all who mourn will be bathed in the holy glow of a black light, shining on hundreds of Led Zeppelin T-shirts in one final glorious fluorescent send-off.

Inscribed on the tombstone, three simple words: "Don't come knockin'."

It may seem a bit early to make funeral plans for the custom van, but the figures don't lie. Conversion van sales have plummeted from 181,000 in 1994 to less than 23,000 in 2004, according to published reports. And with gas prices rising, the mightiest vehicle on the road in the 1970s and '80s is bound to become more of an endangered species -- hunted to near-extinction by inferior-in-every-way minivan owners.

But the few remaining believers will tell you that we haven't gone too far to undo this harm. The van culture is fragmented and disorganized, but can rise again. And it still isn't too late to ask ourselves: Do we really want our grandchildren to live in a world without customized vans?

Beth Allen, a San Francisco graphic designer, punk rock musician and van enthusiast, is leading the local revolution on her comprehensive Web site, www.rockinvan.com.

"They're just so damn cool," Allen explains, when asked about her love of vans. "I don't know what it is. They're big inside and comfortable. I'm not even a stoner, but there's something so 'Fast Times at Ridgemont High' about a bunch of people hanging out inside, and then spilling out the back in a cloud of smoke. ... There's just something rock 'n' roll about a van."

Would KISS fans have remained so loyal in the 1970s, if underage followers couldn't drink Pabst Blue Ribbon and take bong hits in the privacy of a vehicle that was big enough for its own drapes? Would the punk rock movement of the 1980s and grunge movement of the '90s have existed if Mike Ness and Kurt Cobain were forced to rent U-Hauls to tote their gear? Would anyone have blown all that time following the Grateful Dead, if they had to search for the next miracle with their bongos and granola crammed in the trunk of a Ford Taurus?

What's most startling is how quickly the van has gone from the alpha male vehicle of choice to museum relic. Gary Miller of San Jose, one of the last van customization specialists around, says he used to have many competitors in the Bay Area.

"There was one on every corner," Miller says.

Miller, who has worked at Personalized Vans & Trucks since the early 1970s, says the van clubs have scattered, and he hasn't received a newsletter about an exhibition or cross-country road rally in years. He says a large portion of van conversion jobs in the 21st century involve outfitting vans for disabled drivers and passengers. But Miller still specializes in customizing vans as living space -- installing surf racks, cabinets, high-tech accessories and even toilets for his remaining customers.

Miller says van enthusiasts in 2005 are a small group, but extremely loyal. One customer has brought a new van to customize every few years since 1973.

"He just came back to me for the sixth time," Miller says. "He said, 'I think this is the last one. I'm getting old.' But I suspect he'll be back at least one more time."

Too many customers have submitted to the siren song of the minivan, which peaked in sales with 1.37 million units in 2000. It's a baffling figure, considering all minivans are impossible to have sex in and smell like spoiled apple juice. While there are some surface similarities between a traditional van and a minivan -- both have the word "van" in the name -- the van may be the toughest-looking vehicle ever created, while the minivan has rightfully become synonymous with complete emasculation.

Allen fell in love with vans when she bought her first one in 1993, painting flames on the front and sides and using it to haul music equipment. She currently owns a cargo van with red and black shag carpeting, which she's dubbed "The Red Hot Shaggin' Wagon."

Allen and other grassroots van enthusiasts have a corporate ally in longtime van manufacturer GMC, which recently set up the Conversion Van Marketing Association.

The CVMA Web site, www.Todaysconversionvan.com, is filled with van-positive information. In some places, however, it stinks of desperation: "Separate entertainment systems can even be installed, so there's no more fighting over what to listen to or even what to watch!"

Frankly, the deep-pocketed company seems to be fighting small battles, when van enthusiasts are in an all-out war for the soul of America. Why not design a hybrid conversion van? Why not spend big product placement money, getting some of the characters in "Desperate Housewives" and "Lost" behind the wheel of a customized van? Why not build a Conversion Van Hall of Fame?

As a public service, we've even provided four first-ballot inductees to the Conversion Van Hall of Fame, in order of how totally sweet they were:

Mr. T's van from "The A-Team": The A-Team was a group of vigilantes wanted by the federal government, there was a huge reward for their capture and they drove one of the most identifiable vehicles in the history of television. So why didn't anyone turn them in? Because B.A. Baracas' van was so imposing and fearsome, no one would dare make the phone call.

The Mystery Machine: When you think about it, "Scooby Doo" was one of the lamest shows on television. It was basically the same show over and over, with a bunch of stupid characters except for maybe Shaggy. So why did it become so successful, spawning endless spin-offs, video games and movies? Because it had a rockin' van.

The van that Black Flag toured in: Henry Rollins says it best in his book "Get in the Van: On the Road With Black Flag," recalling the first time he saw the punk band that he would later front: "I remember watching their van pull away and I wanted to be in it. ... They had no fixed income and they lived like dogs, but they were living life with a lot more guts than I was by a long shot."

Rocket's van From the 1988 movie "Colors": As rabbit loving gangsta T-bone (played by Damon Wayans) said, while cruising in the back of the van used for criminal enterprise by Rocket (Don Cheadle), "The Rocket don't smoke and the Rocket don't joke." Yet would Rocket have been anywhere near as tough committing drive-bys from the passenger seat of a Ford Fiesta? Of course not.

(Honorable mentions: The van commandeered in "Old School" to kidnap fraternity recruits; The van the serial killer in "Silence of the Lambs" used to collect plus-size victims; The "Flowers By Irene" surveillance van in "The Simpsons"; Every van used to commit a crime in the TV show "CHiPs.")

Realizing that sex sells, Allen is less subtle than the people at GMC. Her site includes features with names such as "Vantisizing," "Boinking in the Back" and "Rockin' Vans" -- which documents scores of van-related sexual encounters.

But like many van supporters, Allen believes the vehicle is about more than sex, drugs and nostalgia. And if people just gave the van a chance, like she did back in 1993, they would never return to their old vehicles.

Miller knows the feeling, and shares Allen's optimism, pointing out that rising gas prices might actually help the van -- steering the retiree crowd away from giant RVs that consume even more fuel than a van that's loaded with features.

"I think this trend might swing around again," Miller says. "If you just see the room in these things, you'll be astonished."